


Something Incredible

by SadieHerondale



Series: Transitions [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Families of Choice, Gen, Post-Canon, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Victor Nikiforov, This takes so many angsty turns even I'M surprised, Time Skips, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, Transphobia, Victuurio Familly Dynamics, You know eventually, Yuri Plisetsky Centered, although this is largely about Anna, be prepared, but there is a happy ending, just like the rest of this series, like it's two years almost to the day after episode 12, mostly a, seriously, that's a major theme so yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieHerondale/pseuds/SadieHerondale
Summary: The life of a Plisetsky is harder than at first it may appear. ~~~This is the third installment of a series, so you should probably at least read Burning Gold first or you'll be a bit lost.





	1. The Meaning of a Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> So, as anyone who knows me knows, I can't keep my characters happy for long, and _everyone_ needs a backstory. Enjoy.
> 
>  **Edit 12/27:** Also, I thought this would be obvious, since it's in the summary and **bolded,** but seriously. Go read at least the work before this, preferably both, before you read this. In case it _isn't_ obvious, Anna is an OC who has been developed over the course of almost _**twenty thousand words,**_ so I didn't tag that there's an original character in this. I've already responded to one person asking me to change my tags, but I won't be addressing it further. If you're not going to heed the fact that the tags have _two_ mentions of a character that doesn't exist in canon, and the warning in the summary, _and_ this, I really can't be bothered to care. There's not much that upsets me like this, but if you're going to read the third part of a series without reading the first two parts and then complain about being confused, I can't be expected to take the blame for that confusion. It's not my problem, so don't try to make it my problem. I have enough on my own.
> 
> Sorry for ranting, but this really bugs me. Enjoy the story.

“Yulya! Are we still on for Saturday?” Anna rolls over on her bed, phone pressed to her ear. She glances at the clock; it’s almost time for gymnastics.

“Unless something’s come up on your end,” Yulia’s voice crackles through the speakers, lower than Anna is used to. Yuri’s voice. They’re in a bit of an awkward stage at the moment, and it seems like he doesn’t know exactly how to act. Anna understands, but she still thinks that it’s kind of dumb. It’s not like anything has changed. It’s been two years since that night. Shouldn’t Yulia be over it by now?

“As long as I don’t make Mama angry, I should be fine.” Anna winces involuntarily and hopes that she hasn’t given anything away. Before Yulia can respond, Anna falls back on the old standby. “How’s your boyfriend?”

Yulia, predictably, takes the bait. “He’s not my _ boyfriend,  _ you know that.”

_ Not for lack of trying on his part,  _ Anna thinks, rolling her eyes. “You two are ridiculous. Just kiss already and be done with it. He’s in town for Victor’s birthday, so make the most of it.”

“N-No! That would make things weird, are you crazy?” Yulia stutters as if it’s the first time Anna has said this to him. It definitely isn’t, and she doubts that it will be the last.

“If you say so. By the way, I want a new dress on Saturday, and you’re buying, Mister Gold-Medalist-Millionaire.” Anna hears the front door open and close, and realizes that she’s going to have to wrap this up. She may have her own phone now, but Mama likes to make any excuse to take it from her if she thinks that Anna is talking to Yulia too much. “Hey, I’ve gotta go.”

“I’m paying for the whole day, aren’t I?” Yulia scoffs. “Have fun at gymnastics.”

Anna has to hold back a snort.  _ As if.  _ “You’re funny. Talk to you soon, Yulya.”

The clock reads 5:30. Anna sighs, puts her phone down, and sits up. Her leotard lays next to her, shimmering in pink and purple. She doesn’t want to wear it. Gymnastics is boring, and the girls there are obnoxious. Not to mention Mama’s obsession with being at every practice, which has ostracized Anna from the other girls. It would be fine, she thinks, if Mama was there for her. But she’s really just there to monitor Anna and make sure that she’s acting in “a manner appropriate for a young  _ girl  _ who has  _ her  _ whole life ahead of her.”

It had taken years for Anna to hear the slight emphasis on certain words, but when she had, the reason for it was obvious. Mama doesn’t have to worry so much, though; Anna is perfectly fine with being a girl. All these extra assurances like etiquette classes and gymnastics and Bible study and cooking classes aren’t necessary. Not that Mama listens when Anna or Grandpa tell her that. Papa, for his part, quietly goes along with it, as usual.

Anna suspects that, though Papa wants the same thing as Mama, he also just doesn’t care that much. He’s never cared about anything much.

“Anna, are you dressed?” Mama pokes her head in. When she sees Anna lying in bed, she looks irritated, as if this is an uncommon occurrence. “Quickly, quickly. We have to be at the studio in fifteen minutes. Come on.”

The leotard mocks her, obnoxious and brightly colored. Still, it’s not worth fighting about; if Anna doesn’t comply with Mama, she won’t be able to see her brother this weekend. She pulls on the leotard, then her jacket and a pair of sweats. Mama ties her hair back into a perfect bun that pulls harshly on Anna’s scalp.  _ Don’t show her that it hurts,  _ Anna thinks, schooling her features into blankness.  _ Show her that I can be a good girl, that I like having my hair done. Every little bit helps, even if she probably won’t ever actually stop. Better to make her happy than to make her angry. _

Anna hates gymnastics practice on a good day, but even more so now that she’s working with the rings. They hurt her hands and her joints, and for some reason she can’t seem to stick her landings. So not only do her ankles hurt, but she has to keep doing drills to perfect her landings. It doesn’t help that she has weak ankles; she’s never been able to properly stick her landings without hurting herself in some form or fashion.

By the end of practice, she’s achy and sore, and her hands are decidedly more red than they were from the beginning. Mama fixes her hair and has her change in the bathroom before they leave for etiquette class. It’s better than gymnastics, but only because it’s boring. Plus, even if the portion sizes are tiny and every bite is a test of manners, she gets food out of it.

Her phone buzzes quietly during class and she excuses herself with exactly the phrase they want to hear in exactly the way they want to hear it. It’s no secret, what Anna is doing, but she’s the golden child in everything she does; she can get away with anything if Mama isn’t watching.

 

**_VN-K: are you excited for this weekend, nyura?_ **

 

**_AP: More than. I haven’t seen Yuri in a month, and Beka is coming too!_ **

 

**_VN-K: really? didn’t hear about that part. have they figured themselves out yet?_ **

 

**_AP: NO AND IT’S BOTHERING ME._ **

 

**_AP: I’ll text you later, Vitya. I have to get back to class._ **

 

**_VN-K: whenever you can. don't get in trouble or do anything to make your mother dislike me. yuuri says hi_ **

 

**_AP: Hi, Yuuri._ **

 

Anna turns off the phone and tucks it back in her purse. She deliberately hasn't said much about her mother to Victor over the years, because she's always had the feeling that he knows more than he lets on.

They're doing posture exercises when she comes back. She sighs and joins them, readying herself for a few more hours of irritation.

 

**~oOo~**

 

She never does get back to Victor. By the time class is over, she’s ready to fall over from exhaustion and boredom. Gymnastics may be physically hard, but etiquette is mentally taxing. It’s almost like the teacher can read minds; she knows the instant any student is not entirely focused.

The heat blasts through the car vents to counter the chill from the snow. Mama doesn’t talk much, as per usual, and Anna looks longingly at a McDonald’s that they pass on the way home. She makes Yulia take her there when they go out, because her diet is so restricted, but she wouldn’t even think about trying to get Mama to stop there.

“You’ve already eaten,” she said, the one time Anna did ask. “You had dinner at your class, and you had a larger lunch because of gymnastics. You’re so pretty, Anna. You don’t want to get fat, do you?”

Anna just looked out the window, like she is now. “No, Mama,” she’d said obediently.

They pull into the driveway around nine, and Anna wishes that she could have fallen asleep in the car. Then, at least, she would be able to claim exhaustion and go to bed early.

“Anna, get the mail, please.” Mama says curtly, already headed inside.

“Yes, Mama.” Anna is glad that she at least brought her snow boots and a jacket. Her legs are a bit cold, but at least the rest of her should be okay. The mailbox has a tendency to stick, so she could be out here for a few minutes.

She wrestles with the door of the mailbox, using the sleeves of her jacket to protect her fingers from the cold metal. With some work, she’s able to break the ice sealing it shut. Her breath is coming out in huffs, and her fingers are red, despite her efforts to keep them warm. She cups her hands to her face and breathes a little warmth into them before grabbing the small pile of mail.

_ There isn’t much that was worth all that effort,  _ she realizes, flipping through envelopes on her way to the door.  _ Mostly bills and junk mail… Wait, what’s that? _

An oddly shaped sticky note falls off of one of the envelopes. It’s shaped like a cat. Anna picks it up before it can get too wet from the snow, and recognizes her brother’s handwriting.  _ Father wasn’t answering the door, so I left it in the mailbox. _

That’s odd. Yulia never drops by the house; he hates their parents. The envelope is plainly named, with no return address.  _ The Plisetskys.  _ But, for some reason, it’s sealed.

_ Well, it’s addressed to all of us,  _ Anna thinks, as she opens the front door. Papa is nowhere to be seen, so he’s probably in the back, watching television. Mama is in the kitchen, making herself something to eat. Anna’s stomach growls, but she ignores it.

There’s a letter opener in the office, she knows. She leaves the rest of the mail on the table in the front room. Her fingers hurt a bit from the cold of outside, but they seem to be warmed up enough that she can open the letter without shaking too much and hurting herself. The tearing of the paper seems louder than it should, as if she shouldn’t be opening it. But that’s crazy, since it was addressed to all of them and Yulia never sends them anything. It must be important.

Except that, when it’s open, all that falls out are several small, rectangular pieces of paper with watermarks. Checks. There’s one addressed to her school, one for her gymnastics studio, for her etiquette class, for art, for her dietician, for everything that Anna is forced to do for Mama’s image of the perfect daughter.

Anna drops them onto the desk in shock. She doesn’t know if she’s angry or sad, but she knows one thing. She feels  _ betrayed. _

Her hands aren’t just shaking from cold anymore, but she manages to snap a decent picture of the mess of checks on the desk and send it to Yulia.

 

**_AP: What the hell is this_ **

 

It’s several minutes before she gets a response, and when she does, it’s not anything like she was expecting.

 

**_YP: It has nothing to do with you, Anna. Don’t worry about it._ **

 

Yulia never texts with perfect grammar or her normal name unless he’s panicking, which clues Anna into the fact that this was something that she was never going to know about. All that does is infuriate her.

 

**_AP: Yuri Mikhailovich Plisetsky. What the hell is this and why do all of these have YOUR signature on them?_ **

 

Maybe she’s being too hard on him. Maybe there’s something that she doesn’t know. But that’s the  _ point.  _ The fact that she didn’t know about this makes it even worse. Yulia  _ knows  _ how much she hates these classes, how much she wishes she was just a normal almost-thirteen year old girl. Why would  _ he,  _ of all people, be contributing to her misery?

Anna almost wants to demand the same things of her mother, but when she thinks of the freezing look that she would get in return, she hesitates.  _ I’ve never been able to stand up to Mama before. What’s so different now? I’m angry with her, but I’m always angry with her. If I bring up Yulia and start accusing her of things, something tells me that I’m going to regret it. _

She gathers the checks silently and puts them back in the envelope. Mama probably won’t even care that Anna knows. If anything, she’s going to be glad that something has finally made Anna angry with Yulia. The thought makes Anna sick.

There’s no response from Yulia for the rest of the night. Anna wants to cry; he’s never ignored her before. Even during his practices, she only has to wait an hour for a response at most.

She goes to bed feeling less hungry and more miserable than she had been before. When she wake up, her eyes hurt and her pillow is wet. She checks the time. 6:18 am. There’s a text from Otabek, too, which is unusual.

 

**_OA: I’m taking you to breakfast. Your mother already said it was okay. I’ll see you around seven._ **

 

She wipes her tears. She’s surprised, but not really excited. She hasn’t seen Beka in a while, so this would be fun on any other day. Right now, though, she just wants to stay in bed. In the back of her mind, she can almost hear Mama scolding her about how rude that would be. Anna sighs, sits up, and starts getting dressed.

It’s going to be a long day.

 


	2. Meant to Bend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, anything in the past tense has already happened, and is just a part of what Otabek is remembering.

The next day, Otabek gets up early and goes on his morning jog, as usual. Yuri is still asleep, which is to be expected after yesterday's fiasco. While Otabek gets ready to go pick up Anna, he thinks about what happened last night.

He was making tea when he heard the telltale clatter of Yuri’s phone. It’s not that it was a particularly unusual sound in itself; Yuri is pretty much famous for his short fuse, and even though he’s mellowed out a little bit over the last few years, it’s not unheard-of for him to throw things when something pisses him off. What had tipped Otabek off about the magnitude of this incident were two things. Number one: the phone hadn’t been thrown. The clatter was too quiet for that, and it didn’t sound like anything was broken. Number two: after the initial burst of noise from its fall, there was complete quiet. When Otabek poked his head out of the kitchen to check if everything was okay, he’d been stunned into silence.

Yuri was sitting on the couch, staring into space. His eyes were suspiciously bright. Almost automatically, his hand came up to cover his mouth in what looked like horror.

“Yuri? Are you okay?” Otabek had asked cautiously.

There had been no response. Yuri had started crying silently, and refused to respond to anything that Otabek said or asked for the rest of the night. In all the time they’ve been friends, something like this hasn’t happened. Otabek was entirely unsure of how to handle this, so he called Victor.

“Yuuri’s on his way. He’ll get there ahead of me,” the older man said when Otabek explained the situation.

Now he was even more confused. “Yuuri?”

“Yeah…” Victor sounded sheepish. “He’s better with this kind of thing. Besides, Yurio doesn’t open up to anyone else very easily when he’s like that.”

That was… interesting. Not what Otabek would have expected at all, considering how the two interact on a regular basis. Or rather, how Yuri interacts with Yuuri. His phone beeped again, signalling that there was another call trying to get through.

“Yuuri is calling me, Victor. Should I take it?”

“Absolutely.” Victor had hung up without further prompting.

Otabek was stunned into stillness for a moment, despite the phone buzzing insistently in his hand. It was almost like they’d had to deal with this kind of thing before, but this was the first that he ever heard about Yuri having a breakdown like this.

He managed to answer the call right before it hit voicemail. “Yuuri?”

“Hello, Otabek-kun.” Yuuri sounded strained, like he was trying to conceal the worry in his voice. “So, what exactly happened?”

Otabek shrugged before realising that Yuuri couldn’t see him. “I wish I knew. There’s something on his phone, but I don’t want to--”

“Do it.” He’d never heard Yuuri sound so serious in the three years that they’d known each other. “If he gets upset about it later, just blame me. It’s not like I’m not used to him being upset with me, but if something has upset him as bad as you’re saying, we need to know.”

He was startled into obeying. He picked it up and swiped his finger across the screen. Yuri never put a lock on his phone, so Otabek had found the very, very short conversation with Anna that had apparently caused all this.

“Something to do with Anna finding some checks,” Otabek said into the receiver. Yuri let out a tiny noise, the first sound he’d made in an hour. Yuuri muttered something that sounded like a curse, but in Japanese. That was enough to worry him; Yuuri never really cursed. “Do you know what this is all about?”

“I’m here. Open the door, please,” Yuuri said instead of answering. Then he hung up.

Otabek was more confused than ever, but he was beginning to think that calling Yuuri over was the best move. He wasn’t sure how to handle Yuri by himself; he hadn’t moved, instead sitting on the couch, shivering, with his hand covering his mouth. Otabek had put a blanket over him, but he wasn’t sure what to do beyond that.

His relief must have shown on his face when he opened the door, because Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s scary, I know. He’ll be okay.

At the sound of Yuuri’s voice, Yuri had turned his head and dropped his hand from his face, mouthing something that Otabek couldn’t hear. Yuuri went to him slowly, almost like he was approaching a wounded animal. Yuri’s eyes followed his every movement almost desperately, which Yuuri seemed to take as permission. He sat down on the couch without touching Yuri.

“Did you tell her why?” Yuuri had asked gently.

“Of course not.” It was barely a whisper, and Otabek wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t for the fact that he was listening hard for any sound from Yuri. It hurt, to see him in pain like this. He needed to know that Yuuri could help.

Even now, as he pulls up to the Plisetskys’ house, his chest twinges at the memory. Yuri had bowed his head and leaned subtly into Yuuri’s personal space. Yuuri had taken the invitation for what it was and wrapped an arm around the younger boy.

“She’ll understand when you do,” he’d said, sounding confident but understanding.

Otabek had felt like he was intruding on something private, and left the room. By the time he’d come back out, Victor was there and Yuri was asleep on Yuuri’s shoulder with tear tracks on his face. In hushed voices, they had explained the situation to Otabek.

“It has nothing to do with you, but since you’ll be staying here for a few months, you deserve to know. Something tells me that this won’t be easy to resolve,” Victor had said after.

Yuuri hadn’t actually said much, running his fingers through Yuri’s hair and looking worried. Over time, it had become clear that, while Yuuri was pretty emotional in general, he cared about Yuri (and, to some extent, even Otabek and Anna) as much as his own family. Despite how well he’d kept it together for Yuri, it was clear that he was troubled by the whole thing, even more so than Otabek.

Before it had gotten too late and he lost his nerve, Otabek shot off a text to Mrs. Plisetsky, whose number he’d gotten off of Yuri’s phone, asking for permission to take Anna to breakfast. Luckily, she always seemed to like Otabek more than the rest of them, and had replied favorably.

Now he’s sitting in front of their house, not really sure what exactly he had planned on doing in the first place. He’s only met Anna a few times one on one, and he always feels like he’s making it awkward. She never really stops talking, though, so luckily, he never has to really contribute to the conversation.

Otabek decides to just act normally until the situation calls for him to act otherwise. He sends Anna a quick text to let her know to come outside.

 

**_OA: I’m here. Are you ready?_ **

 

**_AP: On my way._ **

 

True to her word, as always, Anna is walking toward him in less than a minute. She has her customary smile on her face, and if Otabek didn’t already know something was wrong, he would have been entirely fooled. She's quite the actress.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning,” Anna replies, as usual. He waits for the usual demand about whether he’s going to keep his promise on his own or if she’s going to have to take action herself to get him and Yuri together, but it never comes.

In fact, she seems to be avoiding any topic related to her brother at all. Otabek only realises this about halfway through breakfast at her favorite diner. She’s stuffing a piece of pancake in her mouth in a way that he knows for a fact that her mother would never approve of, and complaining about how much extra practice she has to do for gymnastics because she can’t stick her landings.

“I mean, I have weak ankles. Even my doctor says so! What do they want from me? Pushing that hard only makes the problem worse, you know?” she rambles through a mouthful of food.

Otabek is actually concerned about that particular piece of information, but he just nods in agreement and files it away for later. He’ll have to tell Yuri when this whole thing gets resolved, because there’s no way that someone her age should be doing high impact sports like gymnastics with ankles that weak. For now, though, he eats his food and thinks about how to approach the topic of what happened last night.

It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does when Anna inexplicably does that for him when they get back in the car. The Plisetskys have always had a knack for making up for his social ineptitude.

“By the way, not that I don’t love seeing you, but why did you suddenly offer to buy me breakfast, Beka?” She’s looking at him with wide eyes that tell him that she already knows the answer.

He glances over at her, but he doesn’t know quite how to respond. “Seatbelt,” he reminds her, starting the car.

She rolls her eyes and clicks it into place, but she doesn’t say anything else. Anna’s level of perception has always astounded him; she’s only twelve, but she can still tell that he’s looking for the right way to say what needs to be said, rather than just ignoring the question.  _ Yuri is the same way,  _ he thinks, almost fond, despite the situation.  _ I wonder if it’s genetic. _

They’re almost halfway back to the house before Otabek finds the right words. “Yuri was… really upset last night.”

Anna’s gaze hardens, but she doesn’t look surprised. “Good,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. “He should be. He’s been lying to me, and he didn’t even have the guts to tell me why.”

He thinks back to the scene he witnessed last night, to the memory of an eighteen year old soldier brought to tears by two simple text messages, and thinks that  _ guts  _ really have nothing to do with it.

“Trust me when I say that there was a good reason that he never told you,” he says, hands clenching on the steering wheel. His knuckles are white. “Now that you know, just give him a chance to explain.”

For all that Anna is perceptive, she’s also twelve, and she certainly acts it. “I  _ gave  _ him a chance to explain,” she snaps as they pull up to a stop light. “He refused to, and ignored me. Like a coward.”

Otabek looks at her sharply-- more sharply, he thinks, than he’s ever looked at her before. She flinches under his gaze, but he doesn’t waver. “Your brother,” he says, deadly calm, “is the bravest man that I have ever met.”

There are a few seconds where Anna tries to hold his gaze, but she eventually looks away and mutters, “Yeah? Well he should have explained himself.”

“I saw how you spoke to him in those texts, Anna. Even if he had been  _ able  _ to explain, you wouldn’t have listened to a goddamn word he said.” The light changes, and Otabek gets the car moving again. Anna seems startled; Otabek almost never curses, and he’s certainly never done it in front of her. He can’t bring himself to care. The situation warrants it.

He might not have been able to help last night, and maybe it’s not his place to help at all, but he has to try. He has to at least get her to give Yuri a  _ chance. _

They pull up to the house and Anna unbuckles her seatbelt silently. Otabek grabs her hand before she can get out of the car. “Please, Anna. There’s so much more going on than just the checks. Just let him have a real chance to explain, okay? I think that, after everything he’s done for you, Yuri at least deserves that.”

That’s all he can ask. Even that might be too much.

“I’m not going to promise anything,” Anna says after a long silence, “but… I don’t like being mad at my brother. I’ll think about it.”

She gets out of the car and walks around to his side. They’ve both noticed Mrs. Plisetsky’s face in the open window at this point. “Thank you for breakfast,” she says, sounding formal and strange. “I hope to see you soon.”

He knows that it’s because her mother is listening, and acts accordingly. They’ve done this song and dance a few times before “I look forward to seeing you on Saturday. Goodbye, Anna.”

“Goodbye, Otabek.” Anna turns and goes inside.

  
  



	3. You're Asking if I'm Over Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually updates several days later than usual and hopes you don't notice* Heyyyy.
> 
> For real though, I'm not sure why this was so hard to write? Like, ridiculously so?? It was just... not happening.

Anna means it when she tells Beka that she’ll think about talking to Yulia again. She really does hate being angry with her brother, and it’s made even worse by the way Otabek had reacted. She’s never seen him so unsettled, and the look he gave her was… terrifying.

“Your brother is the bravest man that I have ever met,” he’d said, and Anna had remembered that Otabek has never put up with anyone badmouthing her brother-- apparently, even her. But what had he meant about Yulia not being “able” to answer her? He wasn’t hurt, as far as she knew, and he’d responded the first time. So what gives?

She checks her phone, even though she knows what she’s going to find. There’s not a single text from anyone. Not, of course, that she expected one. All of her friends were Yulia’s friends first, and something tells her that none of them really want to talk to her right now.

Mama has work soon, luckily, and Anna is still on break, so she’ll have some time to think later. For right now, though, she cleans her room and puts a load of laundry in the washer, vacuums the rug in the front room, throws herself into doing all of her chores to the best of her ability. If she can lose herself in the To-Do list that Mama has given her, she won’t have to think about what to do about Yulia yet.

“Anna,” Mama says, using the tone of voice that implies that Anna has forgotten something important.

“Yes, Mama?” Anna looks up from polishing the table in the dining room.

“Have you shoveled out the driveway yet? You know we have to leave for gymnastics soon, so go on and do it before it gets too late. You know how I hate to be late.”

“Yes, Mama.” She finishes up with the table and heads to her room for some warmer clothes. It’s still snowing, but Mama is watching and Mama wants her to look her best at all times, so instead of the snow jacket that Yulia bought her, Anna throws on a cashmere turtleneck and a button up sweater, wrapping a scarf around her neck.

“Mama?” she asks tentatively, when she’s tugging her gloves on. “May I ask a question?”

Mama acknowledges her, which is more than she normally does when Anna asks a question without being prompted to do so. “Yes, what is it, Anna?”

“Did you, um… Did you move my snow boots? The ones that… Yulia got me for my birthday?”

There isn’t even a second’s pause; Mama is doing dishes and she doesn’t even act as if Anna has said anything out of place. “I threw them away. Your sister has no taste for fashion. They were absolutely unfit for a young lady. We will get new ones for you later. For now, just use your leather boots.”

“The… The ankle boots?” Anna only owns one pair of leather boots, but she still feels the need to check. They’re hardly snow-worthy.

She regrets her actions when Mama put down her dish. Her voice isn’t that sharp, and she isn’t even looking at Anna, but her words still make Anna flinch. “I don’t believe that I mumbled. Nor did I stutter. Is there a reason I need to repeat myself?”

Maybe it’s masochism. Maybe it’s stupidity. Anna doesn’t know what it is that possesses her to keep talking. “It’s just that there are a few inches of snow outside and those boots won’t do the same thing as the snow boots.”

“If you’re worried about getting cold, then just complete the job faster. Besides,” Mama picks the plate back up, “They’re lined with fur, aren’t they?”

_ Wet fur is colder than no fur,  _ Anna thinks, but she bites her tongue. “Yes, Mama. I’ll go get the leather boots.”

She turns to go put her boots on, already dreading the twenty to thirty minutes it’s going to take to get the driveway clear. “Oh, and Anna?”

“Yes, Mama?” The response is immediate, automatic.

“I have an emergency meeting for work, so I won’t be able to come to gymnastics today. Grandpa will drop you off, and I will pick you up after my meeting is over. I expect you to practice the entire time that I’m gone.” Her tone allows no argument.

Despite the fact that Anna knows very well that those meetings can last up to three hours, she doesn’t argue. She’s pushed her luck enough for today, so she just goes with the only safe response.

“Yes, Mama.”

Anna zips her boots up as far as they’ll go, which is still only just past her ankle bone. Her feet are going to be cold when she’s done, but if she’s lucky, she’ll finish in time to warm up a bit before they have to leave.

As soon as she opens the door, the cold air bites into her skin. The sweater she’s wearing cuts the chill, if only a tiny bit. There’s quite a bit of snow, but luckily it doesn’t look like it’s reached twelve centimeters. It does reach above her ankles, though, which is already posing a problem less than ten minutes into her work. The fur in her boots is soaked through, and she gives it less than five more minutes before her socks are too. She just hopes that they don’t freeze.

_ You know, Mama,  _ she thinks bitterly, shoveling snow into a pile on the side of the driveway,  _ no one looks good in snow clothes. Even the models you love so much have to be photoshopped. _

Her feet and fingers are colder than they’ve ever been. Shoveling snow has always been her least favorite chore, but she’s at least had proper gloves and boots. These stupid “fashionable” winter clothes are just making it worse.

Anna is lucky that when her ankle gives out, as it’s prone to do randomly, it’s not on a patch of ice. She manages to brace herself on the shovel, leaning against it like a walking stick for a moment. The metal handle is cold enough to be painful, but she ignores it for the sake of not falling into the snow and getting colder.  _ I’m almost done,  _ she thinks, gritting her teeth and getting back to work.  _ I may as well finish now. _

Ironically, the ankle itself never actually hurts when it gives out. It just… stops working for a second, and then she’s falling and trying to catch herself. Right now, though, it feels like it has freezer burn when she moves. The fur has refrozen, stuck to her skin.  _ Great.  _ That’s exactly what she needs. It won’t be too hard to undo once she gets inside, but until then it’s going to hurt a bit.

She only has to clear off the snow enough that they can get out. In this one thing, at least, Mama doesn’t want perfection. It’s another twenty minutes of icy burning ankles and cold fingers and careful steps before Anna is done, but she  _ is  _ done eventually.

When she gets inside, the warmth is in such contrast with the icy air that it almost hurts. At the same time, she welcomes it with a breath of relief and runs a washcloth under warm water, tucking pieces of it around the edges of her boot to melt the fur. It takes a few minutes for it to melt enough for her to take off the boots. Her socks are soaked through, which is unsurprising.

What is surprising are the tiny red marks all over her ankles when she takes the socks off. Anna thought she was being careful not to let the tiny icicles scratch her too badly, but apparently not. She wraps both ankles in gauze, then a bandage before putting on a new pair of socks. When she checks her phone, she sees a missed text from Grandpa.

 

**_NP: I’ll be there to pick you up in ten minutes. I would say that I’ll just take you out and we could skip gymnastics, but your mother wants me to tape practice. Sorry._ **

 

It’s from eight minutes ago. Anna looks at her boots hatefully; they’re soaked through, so she’ll have to find something else. If she tells Grandpa to blast the heat, she should be able to handle the few minutes it takes her to get to the car, then into the studio.

True to his word, as usual, Grandpa pulls into the driveway three minutes later. Anna is ready with her gym bag and her sneakers. There’s still not a single message from Yulia, which doesn’t surprise her.

She gets into the car as quickly as she’s able, and Grandpa looks at her clothes in worry. “Here,” he says, handing her a jacket that looks just her size. It’s even fashionable, so Mama won’t have too many complaints.

Anna pulls it on gratefully and finds that it’s already warm, like the car. “Thanks.”

“Your mother cares far too much about how you look,” Grandpa says, and the fact that he didn’t accept her thanks tells her all she needs to know about who actually bought her new jacket.

She’s managed to ignore the pit in her stomach for most of the day, and she finds that this new jacket makes her irrationally angry. How  _ dare  _ her brother try to solve this with money, when that was the problem in the first place? Of course, he probably only bought it because one of their friends had said something about her lack of proper winter clothes, but still. Presents aren’t exactly the best move right now.

Grandpa gives her a sharp look when they reach a stoplight, as if he knows exactly what she’s thinking. Still, when he speaks, he sounds as if nothing is wrong. “Have you eaten yet?”

“A little,” she says noncommittally. Mama doesn’t let her eat much before practice, because cramps cut it short and even Mama can’t dispute that.

It almost sounds like Grandpa sighs, but instead he rummages blindly in the back for a moment, shoving a brown paper bag in her hands gruffly before getting the car moving again. “Only one, you can have the rest after we leave.”

When Anna opens the bag, she can smell the pirozhki. She nibbles on it slower than she normally would, making sure to savor it with small bites. Besides, she can’t inhale it right before exercise; that would be really painful later.

“Are you mad at me too?” She asks when the silence gets to be too much.

The food doesn’t mean anything; Grandpa makes sure his family is well-fed, regardless of any fighting going on. She knows that Grandpa knows what happened yesterday. There’s no way that Yulia didn’t tell him.

But all Grandpa does is sigh. “I’m not mad. I think you’re acting a bit like you mother, but I’m not mad.”

It’s one of the worst things he could have said. Everyone who knows about their family knows how Grandpa feels about Mama. Maybe he’s not mad, but he’s  _ disapproving,  _ which is infinitely worse. “I’m not the one who messed up,” Anna says defensively.

“No, you just have no idea what’s happening because your brother loves you and jumped through hoops to make damned sure that you never found out.” When Anna didn’t respond, he continued. “Do you know who actually messed up, Annichka?”

“Yulia,” she says immediately.

Grandpa doesn’t respond, pulling into the parking lot silently. Anna gets the distinct impression that he’s masking his irritation. She ignores it, putting her phone on silent and getting out of the car. There’s a rather scary moment on her way inside where her ankle gives out again, and she almost doesn’t catch herself. It always gets worse when it’s cold out. Luckily, it still takes her less than a minute to get inside and the sneakers don’t pose too much of a problem. The building is quiet; it’s not a normal practice day, so no one else is here.

She gets changed into her leotard and goes through the warm-ups, finishing up with the push ups just as the instructor walks in. For most gymnasts, push ups aren’t exactly a normal warm up, but ring techniques need more upper arm strength so she’s been incorporating them into her routine for a while now.

“Rings today, we'll be working on your landings again,” he says, voice all business. Anna knows, though, that if she looks, she'll see pity shining in his eyes.

She doesn't look. Instead she gets up and stretches her arms above her head. “Okay.”

It’s only been a few minutes since they started, but Anna is sure that the instructor can tell that her mind is somewhere else. She hasn’t texted Yulia yet, mostly because she’s not sure if she really wants the answer to her questions. Otabek and Grandpa have made it infinitely more clear that there’s something huge going on that she doesn’t know about-- something serious enough that Yulia thought he needed to protect her. If even her brother was lying to her, how bad was the actual problem?

_ The simplest answer,  _ she thinks as she raises her legs in a midair split,  _ would be to ask Mama. Or maybe Papa, since it’s doubtful that he cares enough to keep it a secret. I don’t really want to do that, because Papa and Mama scare me. But Yulia still lied to me, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to forgive him. _

Anna realizes, as she swings into a flyaway, that if Yulia explains the situation, she’s going to forgive him immediately. She grips the rings to break her fall, like she’s supposed to, and her shoulders ache from the impact.  _ I don’t like being mad at him,  _ she thinks, pressing into a handstand the way the routine requires.  _ But I really don’t want to just let this go. _

The routine is over. She’s vaguely aware of Grandpa sitting in the bleachers with the video camera trained on her, just like Mama asked, and her coach watching her intently to see if she manages to stick the landing. She’s pretty sure she won’t, and braces herself midair for the impact of the mat.

It’s a surprise when she manages to land on her feet, but even more of a surprise when she hears a quiet  _ pop  _ and her ankle gives out again. She falls, which isn’t unusual. What  _ is  _ unusual is the amount of pain that she’s in. Normally she falls without warning; nothing hurts, nothing pops, it's as if her ankle just stops working. Right now, though, sharp jolts of pain are shooting up her leg in time with her pulse.

_ “Motherfuck,”  _ she hisses, almost surprising herself. It's Yulia that curses, not Anna, but this  _ really  _ hurts. She dimly hopes that the video didn't pick it up, but at the moment, that's the least of her worries.

Grandpa heard it, though. “Anna? Are you okay?”

The instructor already has an ice pack in hand, since she falls so often, but even he looks worried. “Did you hear anything when you landed? Or feel anything?”

Anna nods, gritting her teeth. “Something popped. In my ankle.”

The instructor puts a gentle hand on her ankle, practiced fingers prodding at her muscles and tendons. When she yelps in pain, he leans back. “It’s your Achilles. I  _ told  _ your mother this might happen. Nikolai, would you mind calling Anna an ambulance?”

Grandpa is already on the phone. Anna is pretty sure that Mama won’t be at the hospital when they get there, but through the pain in her ankle, she realizes that the sinking feeling in her stomach has less to do with who  _ won’t  _ be there and a whole lot more to do with who will.

 


	4. Perfect Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's back and this chapter is twice as long as usual because of it. What can I say? I love him.

Yuri is just getting back from a long jog when he gets the call. More than anything, he needed to clear his mind from what happened last night. Anna deserves an explanation, so he's trying to figure out the best way to tell her just how conniving and manipulative Mother is without ruining Anna's perception of her.

Yuuri, Victor, and Beka let him sleep in until nearly ten, which is unheard of. All things considered, though, he let it slide with minimal complaining. He won’t let them know that he barely slept because of the nightmares that kept waking him up. Never let it be said that Yuri Plisetsky hasn't matured over the last few years.

Of course, he still resists the urge to throw a tantrum when he finds the note on the kitchen counter from Victor, telling him that he's not allowed to practice today.

His phone starts chiming annoyingly right when he finishes his first glass of water. The caller ID says that it's Anna's gymnastics studio.

He clears his throat and picks up. “Hello?” he says in Yulia’s voice.

“Yulia Plisetsky? This is Stepan Smirnov, Anna's assistant coach.”

“Yes, and? Is there a reason you're calling me during practice?” Yuri knows Anna's practice schedule inside and out, if only because he's the one paying for it. He made sure, when all this started a few years back, not to let practice interfere with school and made sure that there were never more than two consecutive practice days. She's too young; messing with her body like that could have long term consequences.

“Well, that's the thing…” Yuri gets the distinct impression that this man is nervous. For a moment he's worried that Anna skipped practice (which wouldn't be a problem for him, but Mama will definitely take issue if that's the case). “I'm with Anna and her grandfather at the hospital right now, and we need you to come in.”

Yuri puts the glass down and heads for his room immediately to pack an overnight bag. “What? Is Grandpa okay?”

“Your grandfather is fine. Anna was doing ring work today and snapped her Achilles tendon. Your name is listed as the owner of his insurance plan, so we need you to come in and sign a few forms. We've called your mother and left a message, but she isn't available right now and we'd need you to come in anyway since you're the primary owner of the insurance.” The words are spoken in a nervous rush.

Panic wells up in Yuri’s chest, but he forces it down.  _ Anna is hurt. You can't afford to panic right now. Even if she doesn't want you there, she needs you right now. _

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” Yuri says in Yulia’s voice. For once the separation of the two isn't painful; when it comes to Anna, the two of them are of one heart. “Is there anything else?”

“No. When will--” Yuri has already hung up and switched his phone to vibrate. He shoves a few outfits in the bag that he was saving for Anna's Christmas presents. If she was brought to the hospital during practice, she definitely doesn't have any appropriate clothes on. Yuri is also willing to bet that Grandpa forgot the gym bag at the studio when the ambulance came. Grandpa is great at so many things, but he's useless in an emergency.

The hospital isn't too far from his apartment, which is one of the reasons Yuri picked the place. It's easier to get a sprained ankle or a pulled muscle from practice treated when he lives less than a mile from a building full of doctors. He throws the duffle over his shoulder, pulls his hood and scarf up to protect his face from the snow and the Angels that are prowling around even in this weather, and heads out without a second thought.

The cold will kill his phone in minutes, but he realizes that he should text the others and let them know what's going on. It only takes him a few seconds to open the group chat with Victor, Yuuri, and Otabek in it. He notes, with mild hysteria, that their last conversation had to do with lunch plans.

 

**_Y_ ** **_P: Anna is in the hospital. She tore her Achilles at gymnastics. I'll be home soon._ **

 

He stows the phone quickly, shoving it in his pocket before the cold reaches the battery and drains it entirely. It vibrates consistently for a few minutes as they blow up his phone with texts, but he doesn't check.

It's only ten minutes later that he was a the hospital, huffing a bit from over exertion. His run earlier hadn't been easy, and he's barely had time to recover.

The lady a the desk looks up. “Good afternoon.”

“Anna Plisetsky,” Yuri growls, not wasting time with pleasantries. He's cold, he's uncomfortable, and he feels a bit exposed because even though he's wearing a thick jacket, he's not wearing his binder.

The woman blinks at his attitude, but doesn't seem fazed. She types for a second, then points down the hall. “Room 562. Up the elevator and on your left.”

Yuri finds it in less than two minutes. A stealthy glance inside tells him that yes, Anna is okay. She doesn't see him.

He backs away from the door and pulls out his phone. There are several missed texts, but he just opens his calling app and dials the gymnastics coach. “Hello? This is Yulia. Open the door.”

“Of course.” The door opens immediately and Yuri hangs up. “Please, come in. Your grandfather is in the restroom,” Stepan says.

Yuri pokes his head in slowly and seeks out Anna's gaze from where she sit, leg elevated, on the hospital bed. She avoids his eyes, but he asks the question anyway. “Annichka? May I come in?”

She snorts. Her voice shakes a little when she speaks, though Yuri can't tell if it's from anger or something else. “That depends. Are you paying for this too?”

Yuri hesitates. Technically, no. The insurance is. He’s just paying for the insurance. But something tells him that technicalities don’t really matter. “Yes.”

“Of course you are. Whatever,” Anna mutters. She sees the duffel bag and her eyes narrow. “Come in, but don't think you're staying overnight or something.”

“No, of course not.” The thought hadn't even occurred to him. “They're for you. I know how much you hate that leotard.”

A conflicted look crosses Anna's face for an instant. “Stop being so nice when I'm mad at you.”

“...Sorry.” Yuri peels his coat off and unwraps his scarf, hanging them on one of the wall hooks before turning to Stepan. “We're doing the paperwork outside. I shouldn't be in here.”

The other man-- boy, really; he looks about Yuri’s age --is staring at him, mouth agape. “Yuri Plisetsky?”

_ Oh, motherfucker.  _ Yuri realizes that his face is exposed now, and that his t-shirt isn’t as loose as it probably should be. He also realizes that this is the  _ least  _ of his problems right now, so he just changes his voice back to Yuri’s, not Yulia’s, and rolls his eyes to mask the churning in his gut. “Yeah. The insurance hasn’t changed my name yet. Problem?”

“N--Not at all, it’s just…” he seems to be looking for a way to put his thoughts into words.

“Outside,” Yuri repeats, feeling as if he’s speaking to a moron. The assistant coach nods and leaves the room obediently. Yuri glaces at Anna. “Will you be okay until Grandpa gets back?”

“Just go.”

The words are like knives to his chest, but he nods. “If you want me to leave after this is dealt with, I will. I promise.”

“Go  _ away,  _ Yuri.”

_ Please don’t,  _ Yuri begs silently.  _ For the love of God, please don’t use that name like a weapon. I know you’re mad at me, I know you’re hurting on the inside and on the outside but please… _

“Okay,” he says instead, clearing his throat to get rid of the lump that’s there. He turns to the door and it takes all his willpower to walk through without looking back. He manages it, barely. The assistant coach is standing there, staring at him unabashedly. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Stepan laughs unexpectedly. “You haven’t changed at all since we were kids.”

“Oh, for the love of--” Yuri remembers him now, remembers crybaby Stepan and how much both Yulia and Yuri had detested him, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s a small town. People pop up randomly. “Whatever. What do I need to sign?”

It’s all bullshit, he realizes about five minutes into the paperwork. Most of it is just “don’t sue the hospital if you lie to us about an allergy and have a reaction to medication” and the liability waivers from the gymnastics studio. It’s about ten minutes before his phone buzzes again. He finally checks the messages from earlier, since the paperwork isn’t going anywhere and Stepan won’t say shit anyway.

 

**_VN-K: whAT? IS SHE OKAY_ **

 

**_YK-N: Don’t do anythign rash, we’ll be there as soon as we can._ **

 

**_VN-K: YURIO_ **

 

**_YK-N: *anything_ **

 

**_VN-K: YURI_ **

 

**_VN-K: YURATCHKA HOW IS SHE_ **

 

**_OA: Are you okay?_ **

 

And the most recent one is from Yuuri. It’s the only one he responds to.

 

**_YK-N: We’re in the parking lot. The rest of the team came too, they were worried. I couldn’t talk any of them out of it._ **

 

**_YP: i s2g if they make too much noise ill throw them out the windows myself make sure they fucking know that katsudon_ **

 

Yuri puts the phone down and looks over the last form. It’s a release for surgery. He’s confused for a moment before remembering that that’s a possible treatment for a torn Achilles tendon. He looks up at Stepan.

“If she does the brace, there’s no way a physical therapist would sign off on her going back to gymnastics. If she gets the surgery, she’ll be able to do the classes again, right?”

“In theory.” Stepan looks nervous. “I wouldn’t let her anywhere near it, personally, because there’s a constant risk of this happening again, but she  _ could.  _ ”

All Yuri really wants to do is rip the paper to shreds, but that’s not his decision to make. He pokes his head in the room again. “Annichka?”

She looks at him with redder eyes than before. “What?”

“I have to ask before I do it, but do you want to keep doing gymnastics?” He holds up the paper. “If you do, I can sign this and you’ll recover a few months quicker. You’ll be able to keep going to class.”

“Is it you asking, or Mama?” Anna’s picked up his habit of sending hidden messages.  _ Did you  _ **_want_ ** _ to make me do all those things? _

“You already know the answer to that, милая.”  _ Of course not. _

Anna crosses her arms and leans back against the pillows. “Rip it to shreds, and I’ll hear you out. If you sign it, I never want to see you again.”

The words are scarily reminiscent of something Mama said once, but Yuri is relieved that he’s at least getting a chance to explain himself. He rips the paper in half then and there. The insurance company is going to be a pain to deal with, since on paper the surgery is the cheaper option, but if Anna wants to opt for the longer treatment in return for a medical reason to never have to do something she hates again, it’s going to be a small price to pay.

“I’m going to finish up, then we can talk,” Yuri says, dropping the torn pieces of paper in the trash. When he does, he notices the sneakers next to Anna’s bed. “Annichka, where are your snowboots?”

She avoids his eyes again, and they’re back to square one. “Don’t you have something you should be doing right now,  _ Yuri?”  _ And there it is again, her voice wielding his name like a knife.

It’s a defense mechanism this time, though. It hurts, but he can tell that that’s what it is. So he lets it lie for now and turns to leave the room. He pulls out his phone and dials the insurance company.

He’s only been on the phone for a few minutes before a mass of people turn the corner. Yuuri, Otabek, and Victor lead the pack, followed by Mila, Georgi, and, surprisingly, Yakov.

“Okay, but here’s the thing,” Yuri tells the insurance rep. “She’s opting out of the surgery, which she  _ can  _ do because I’m the owner of the plan and I’m allowing it.”

“Aw,” Mila coos. “If he’s yelling at some poor customer service person about Anna, she must be okay. Look at him, being all adult. I’m so proud.”

“They grow up so fast,” Victor adds, wiping a fake tear.

“Hang on” Yuri tells the woman, turning toward them. “Mila, shut the fuck up. Victor, I’m not your fucking son, okay? Anna is in there, go bother her. I have actual shit that needs to get done and you all are going to have to leave once Mother gets here anyway.”

Luckily, using his mother as a threat is actually effective. They all go inside at once, much to the chagrin of the nurse on duty. Yuri goes back to his conversation when they’re gone. The rep has been pressing him for a reason that Anna doesn’t want the surgery, and Yuri really wants to reach through the phone and throttle the nice woman with her nice voice. Stepan went a few minutes ago to get the paperwork to the people who need to process it, so Yuri is alone in the hallway, save for a few nurses buzzing from room to room.

It’s another twenty minutes before he’s able to hang up, and it feels like his head is going to explode. When he finally does get off the phone, he rubs circles into his temples.

A pair of hands come down onto his shoulders and squeeze comfortingly. Yuri relaxes immediately, leaning back into Otabek’s arms. “Adulting sucks.”

Beka laughs quietly. “I know. You’re handling it well.”

“I’ll panic when I have the time,” Yuri sighs and blows his bangs out of his eyes. Otabek is warm, he realizes. He must have taken his jacket off. “These last few days don’t even seem real.”

“I know what you mean.”

Yuri huffs out a laugh that sounds slightly hysterical, even to him. “She was so mad at me, and then  _ this  _ happens. I don’t even know how she feels now.”

“Well,” Beka speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s trying to find the exact way to phrase what he wants to say. “I don’t know how she feels. How do you feel?”

How the hell does he expect Yuri to answer that? He doesn’t know the  _ name  _ of most of the emotions he’s feeling right now. All he knows is that somewhere in there is a simmering, dangerous anger that isn’t directed at anything in particular yet. He knows this anger well; he knows  _ most  _ anger well. This one is volatile, just  _ waiting  _ for a target to come into its path. This isn’t normal, explosive, gone-in-an-instant irritation. There’s something he doesn’t know, and he  _ knows  _ it. Once he figures out what it is, he’s sure that it’s going to be the final straw. He has just enough puzzle pieces, he realizes, to form an ugly picture, but not enough to give him a real idea of what’s going on.

“I’m suspicious.” Yuri finally settles on a word. “I’m terrified and suspicious as hell.”

Beka’s arms tighten around him. “By the way, there was something Anna told me this morning--”

“Am… Am I interrupting?” Stepan’s back, and he looks slightly embarrassed to see Yuri standing in Otabek’s arms.

Yuri sighs and stands up straight. He can’t deal with this right now; he’s reached a limit. “Victor!”

A mop of silver hair pokes out of the hospital room. “Yes, Yurio?”

“Do me a favor. Deal with this,” he doesn’t even have the energy to refute the stupid nickname. He might have gotten a total of four hours of sleep last night because of the nightmares, and he’s exhausted. Grandpa still isn’t back from the bathroom, and it’s been almost an hour. There’s no way he’s actually in the bathroom; he’s probably fighting with Mother over the phone. “And tell Yakov to go find my grandpa.”

“But Yurio, don’t you need to sign--”

“Everything is signed. You just have to talk to the doctor and deal with Mother.” Yuri ignores the starstruck look on Stepan’s face when he stares at Victor, and tries to keep the room from spinning. “I’ll owe you one. Please?”

Victor takes pity on him with a nod and a small smile. Yuri catches himself wondering if this is what it’s like to have real parents. When he realizes what he’s thinking, he shakes his head, pinning Stepan with a withering look. “There a reason you’re still here? You’re just her teacher, right?”

“Y-Yeah, I am.” Stepan is jolted out of his fanboy haze.

“Go inside and say goodbye. Don’t let Mila hit on you or you won’t be able to get out for hours. You really don’t want to be in the middle of the shitstorm that’s going to hit when Mother gets here.”

“To be honest, your mother terrifies me,” the instructor admits. “You all do.”

“There’s not much that doesn’t terrify you, you fucking wimp,” Yuri mumbles.

Beka sits him down on the bench firmly. “Be nice, Yura.”  

Yuri doesn’t remember the last time he cared about being nice to someone that isn’t family, but he does shut up. He can barely keep his eyes open at this point, and it’s easier to just do what he’s told.

He doesn’t sleep. There’s no way he could; the chairs are uncomfortable, the air smells like antiseptic and sadness, and there’s a constant, low buzz of noise of the hospital. The best he can manage is a doze, a sort of half-sleep that makes the world feel a bit like a dream.

Occasionally there will be some unexpected movement in the hallway and Yuri’s eyes will snap open. For an instant, he’s ready to snap at whoever made the disturbance, but it’s almost always someone he knows. He still has the urge to punch Mila when she coos at him condescendingly, but he knows better than to try. Besides, she’s actually not being so bad.

At one point, someone is messing with his hair. The only people with the balls to try that are Beka and Victor, so he doesn’t bother blindly punching whichever of them that it is. They’re pulling his hair out of his face, and he feels the pull of elastic.

“You really should get more hair ties,” Beka says when he realizes that Yuri is awake. “It’s past your shoulders, so you really can’t afford to keep taking them from Mila.”

Yuri hums noncommittally. “How long was I out?”

“About an hour. The others are getting ready to go home.” Otabek’s hands are warm, and he’s not wearing his jacket. Yuri takes that to mean that he’s not leaving yet.

The implications of what Beka said sink in a moment later, and Yuri snaps awake. “Mother’s coming?”

“No, not yet.” Beka doesn’t move even when Yuri flails a bit. He’s probably used to this sort of thing after a few years of being Yuri’s friend. “They just want to get home before dark.”

As if on cue, Mila, Yakov, and Georgi come out of the room, bundled in their snow clothes once again. How on earth Mila manages to make that snow jacket look good is beyond Yuri; she just has that effect on clothes. They leave with quiet goodbyes directed at Anna, though none of them look particularly happy to be going. Yuuri follows them out, looking distinctly like he’s herding cats.

“You can’t all stay here for too long, you know,” he says. “Her brother needs to talk to her.”

“Why can’t he do that with us in the room?” Mila pouts.

“Reasons.” Yuuri’s tone allows no argument, in a rare show of the stubbornness that lurks under his usual idiot facade. “Now come on.”

“Okay, okay.” Mila manages to make the entire group stop in front of Yuri. “Bye, котенок! We gonna see you at practice tomorrow?”

Yuri sends her a death glare. “Keep calling me that and you won’t see anything.”

“Aw, is the kitten going to scratch my eyes?” Mila laughs and pats his hair. “Don’t worry, Yura. You’ll never be able to reach.”

It’s a stupid, ongoing joke that she’s never been able to get over. Yuri is taller now, if only by a few centimeters. He’s more than able to reach Mila’s face, and she  _ knows  _ not to call him kitten. Still, she doesn’t really mean anything by it and it’s not worth the effort of making a scene in the hospital, so he just glares until they leave. Yuuri goes with them, probably to make sure that they actually leave.

As soon as the elevator opens, Victor pops out of Anna’s room, looking almost cheerful. “The doctor came in and gave Anna a cast while you were sleeping. He said that we can get her into a walking cast in around nine to ten weeks.”

Yuri stands up, stretching. He can’t say he likes the cold that always settles in his bones when he leave’s Beka’s unreasonably warm arms, but it wakes him up, at least. He's really not looking forward to this, even if it might give him more of the puzzle pieces he needs to get an idea of the whole picture.

“That should be fine, as long as Mother doesn’t intimidate them into taking it off earlier,” he says, arms falling back down to his sides. “This is really going to suck.”

Beka doesn’t say anything. Not that Yuri expected him to; he has a strange sense of when is or isn’t the right time to offer advice. Victor, on the other hand, always has two cents to throw in. He puts a hand on Yuri’s shoulder and smiles.

“She’ll understand,” he says, using Yuuri’s exact words from yesterday. “You two will get through this. Besides, you’re more her guardian than both of her parents combined.”

He’s not sure he wants to be responsible for a twelve year old, honestly. He’s not cut out for it--  _ I’m only seventeen, for god’s sake  _ \--and thinking of her as his... daughter? ward? responsibility? is just weird. On the other hand, he supposes that it’s objectively pretty true. Even if it’s weird to think about, his entire life is pretty weird. Rolling with it shouldn’t be too hard. Besides, Yuri has always said that he’ll do anything for Anna.

So he goes in with only Victor at his side, he sits down, and he tells her everything.

He tells her about the text he got from Mama after he won his first gold medal. About how, in a few simple words, Mother had cornered him into becoming almost entirely financially responsible for Anna because he could apparently afford it now. Be it school, extracurriculars, or even normal necessities like health insurance, Mother had trapped him into paying for it all, unable to do or say anything about it.

Yuri tells her about Mother’s threat. He tells her about how if he refused her, if he refused to pay for all of those ridiculous classes and activities, he would be cut off from any contact with Anna whatsoever. Yuri tells her about how Mother and Father hate Anna spending time with him so much that they’ve actually already cut off most contact; unless he promises something in return, even those short day trips to the mall or the movies wouldn’t be happening.

_ How weak can you be?  _ He asks himself bitterly, even as he’s talking.  _ You let yourself be blackmailed so easily, and now you can’t even look her in the eye. _

And he can’t. He’s staring at the linoleum tile in front of his feet, not looking up once the entire time that he’s speaking.

He tells her how hard he tried to get the absolute nicest instructors he could find, and how he tried his hardest to make it up to her in little ways that will probably never be enough. He tells her that he’s sorry if he ruins the way she sees their mother now. She really does only want what’s best for Anna, even if it’s at his expense.

Then he’s done. He’s not crying. Not yet. If he doesn’t look at her, he can pretend that all he’s doing is saying it out loud, acknowledging something that he’s long since accepted. That simmering anger from before bubbles more dangerously now, still directed at everything and nothing for lack of any real target. It’s only when he hears the hiccup from Anna that he manages to look up.

She’s red faced with something-- whether it’s tears or anger or frustration, he can’t tell.

“I  _ hate  _ her,” Anna breathes out and yeah, it’s definitely frustration.

Yuri wants to reach out and say something, but all he can manage is a quiet, “No, don’t. If I make you hate her--”

“You didn’t make me. I already did. This just makes me even more mad. She doesn’t want what’s best for me. She’s the reason I’m here!” It’s almost like something has snapped inside her. “After all the crap she did to you, she could have at least made sure that her fucking leverage didn’t get hurt. It’s her fault that tendon thing snapped. It was already too short and she  _ knew  _ it and the cold made it smaller when I was shoveling out the driveway. If she hadn’t thrown out my fucking snowboots none of this--”

“She did  _ what?  _ ” The words rip themselves from Yuri’s throat, forming a snarl that he didn’t even intend to make.

“They weren’t pretty enough,” Anna mutters.

He looks at the sneakers next to the bed, and the puzzle pieces start to fall into place, making the already ugly picture take shape and grow even more grotesque. The anger boils over, and Yuri wants nothing more than to punch the woman’s lights out. After everything, after the hell she put him through, she’s been treating Anna like this.

The door opens.

“The team and I tried to stall, but--” Yuuri is cut off by the sound of clicking high heels.

“Coach Stepan told me everything,” Mother says, walking in. “The doctors told me that you opted out of surgery, Anna?”

All traces of the anger that was written on her face a second ago vanish as Anna looks down at her sheets. “Yes, Mama.”

That demure, submissive tone in his sister’s voice is enough to make Yuri see red. He starts to lunge for the woman, ready to finally,  _ finally  _ let out that boiling anger he’s been keeping at bay for so long, but a hand comes down on his shoulder before he can even move.

“Yuratchka,” Victor says seriously, “Let us handle this.” _This is_ ** _not_** _the time or place,_ he’s really saying.

Yuri is shaking from rage, from frustration, from a million emotions that he doesn’t know the name of. But he manages to nod.  _ Give her hell. _

There’s ice in Victor’s eyes, sharp as cut glass.

Yuri has no doubt that he’s going to be having words with his mother but until he cools off, that might be a bad idea. For now, he’ll let himself accept the help. He has no doubt that they’re going to rip her to shreds in the most polite, savage way possible; if there’s one thing that he can count on, it’s Victor and Yuuri’s instinct to protect their family.

For once not even thinking about his mother’s reaction, he stands up, walks over to the chair on the side of Anna’s bed, and sits down. He wants to glare defiantly at the woman, but Anna is more important. Infinitely more important.

He uncaps a sharpie and signs his name on the bright blue cast. “There,” he says, heedless of the withering look Mother is giving him. “There aren’t many girls who can say they have my autograph, you know.”

Anna is looking at him in disbelief, but she doesn’t say anything in return. That’s fine.  _ You’re more her guardian than both of her parents combined,  _ Victor had said. If all that meant was taking care of Anna, Yuri supposes that he can accept it as the truth.

_ It’s still a little terrifying,  _ he thinks, looping the y at the end of his name and doodling a little cat face.  _ But  _ **_someone_ ** _ needs to be here for her. At least for right now. _

“Mrs. Plisetsky,” Victor says, voice poisonously sweet, “I believe that we should have a talk. Outside.”

The three of them disappear through the door.

 


	5. Tearing Love Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update!!!! Finals were kicking my butt. 
> 
> Well, you guys asked for it. 2k words of angry Victor and Yuri's mother getting her ass handed to her. Yuuri is kind of a savage, and everything works out. Pretty much entirely dialogue and I guess Victor could be considered a little OOC, but we _still_ know next to nothing about him or how his mind works, so I'm going to claim artistic license until we know more. Idk if Yuri will ever get to sucker punch the woman, but it could still theoretically happen. 
> 
> Also, random trivia fact: Daniela is the name of the mother of the figure skater that Yurio is based on in canon. The more you know I guess. Enjoy!

In general, Victor thinks he’s a pretty easygoing guy. He’s had to be; being a child prodigy has its share of downsides, and letting negativity roll off his back was the only real way to survive in the skating world. It’s a skill, he realizes sometimes, that Yurio still hasn’t quite developed. But really, it takes a lot to make Victor genuinely hate someone. If he doesn’t like them, he gets away from them. If that’s not an option, he looks for something good.

With Daniela Plisetsky, that has never once been possible. 

Victor remembers the day he decided that Yurio was his family. The boy was ten, and it was the first time Victor had ever had someone besides Yakov travelling with him. Even at such a young age, Yurio had been so abrasive; it definitely threw Victor for a loop and caused him no end of irritation in the beginning, but at the same time, there was something broken in his eyes. Yuri Plisetsky had so much potential and so much hidden from the world at such a young age, and that was what had drawn Victor to him, initially. But watching the boy skate was painful. 

“Yakov.” Victor had tried to put his concern into words. “Does he always flinch like that when he lands a jump?”

Yakov had hummed affirmatively. “I’ve been working with him on it, and he’s getting better.”

_ It looks like he’s in physical pain though,  _ Victor had thought. Later that night, of course, he’d figured out just how right he was. The raw skin, barely visible cuts, and deep purple bruising that Yurio’s duct tape binding had left him with haunt Victor’s thoughts sometimes even now. Nearly invisible, razor-thin scars still shine on his torso in the right light. Victor decided that very night, dressing the boy’s wounds and lecturing him about proper binding habits, that he would protect Yuri Plisetsky with everything he had.

And Daniela is a threat. She always has been. She’s the reason for so much of Yuri’s pain, and now Anna’s too. She never told him anything up front about how Daniela treated her, but Victor could always tell that she wasn’t happy. Daniela treats everyone around her like an asset, always has. Her children were never going to be exceptions, and Victor realizes now that he’s been stupid to ever think anything different. He’s always at least hoped that Anna was kept from it. 

It takes a lot for him to stop Yurio from charging the woman when she  _ finally  _ decides, after more than three hours, to show her face in the hospital. But he does it. Nikolai left with Yakov and the others, so he could avoid Daniela; Victor doesn't blame him in the slightest, but that leaves him as the only other adult who can speak to her. When they leave the room, Victor hears the squeak of bedsprings and glances back. Yurio is sitting with Anna, holding his phone so they can both see it. A meowing noise comes from the speaker, and Victor can't stop the fond swell of his heart, despite the cold anger that's gripping it.  _ Those two really are very similar.  _

When he looks forward again, another wave of ice cold hatred washes over him. Daniela is looking at the siblings with disdain, eyeing Yurio hatefully. Both of them are very studiously  _ not  _ looking back at her. 

“Alright, Mrs. Plisetskaya,” Victor says. “Let's not discuss this in front of Anna.”

Daniela  _ hmph _ s and walks out the door gracefully. Victor gives Yurio one last glance before following her.  _ I'll take care of this, Yuratchka. I promise.  _

As soon as the door shuts behind them, he offers Daniela a bright smile. If there's one thing the cameras have taught him over the years, it's how to hide his true feelings. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Plisetskaya. I hope that your incredibly important business meeting went well?” 

“It did, thank you for asking. I nearly had to cut it short because of all this, but since Papa was here, I was able to get the contract signed.” She's as brisk and upfront as ever, dark blond hair tied back tightly. “Although that might have been a mistake on my part. If the insurance has been dealt with, why is Yulia still here?” 

“Yuri is doing his duty as Anna's older brother,” Victor says matter of factly. He doesn’t emphasize Yurio’s name or the male pronouns, since he’s sure Daniela will notice anyway. 

She does. Her eyes harden almost imperceptibly. “And you?”

“We’re his ride home. When he heard Anna was hurt, he walked here. Alone. In the snow.” He knows that his smile is sharp as a knife. Yuuri is looking at Daniela with a similar expression; though Victor is sure that though he only understands about half of the conversation, he knows what’s going on. 

Daniela crosses her arms. “I respect you, Victor--” Victor resists the urge to laugh bitterly “--so I’m going to be upfront with you. I don’t appreciate that you encourage Yulia’s behavior around Anna.”

“I only encourage him to remember that there’s at least one person in his family besides his grandpa that loves him.” Victor’s phone buzzes quietly in his pocket. Looks like Chris came through; Victor owes him and his boyfriend big time.

“Mikhail and I love our daughters. Please don’t mistake Yulia’s punishment for a lack of love.” The words are robotic, almost entirely emotionless. 

So Victor mirrors that tone, deciding to bring up a few indisputable facts. “If you loved your children, you wouldn’t use your daughter to blackmail your son. If you loved your daughter, she wouldn’t be in that cast right now.” He turns to Yuuri and switches to English. “Yuuri,  моя любовь, I hate to ask because of the snow, but there’s a folder in the glove box of the car…”

“I’ll grab it.” Yuuri doesn’t miss the fact that Victor uses a Russian endearment and, in a rare and purposeful initiation of PDA, he leans up and kisses Victor’s cheek before heading back toward the elevator. 

Daniela isn’t entirely able to mask her disgust, upper lip twitching slightly before her expression smooths out. “I understand what you're trying to say, Victor, but it's not your place to tell me whether you love my  _ daughters  _ or not.” 

It takes a lot for Victor to stop himself from throttling her. People call him oblivious all the time, act like he’s a moron and doesn’t understand anything. Those people have clearly never met Daniela Plisetskaya. “I really hate to break this to you, Mrs. Plisetskaya, but I guarantee that those children aren’t yours anymore. Yuri was barely yours to begin with. You just had a hold over him.”

“Of course I have a hold over her. Yulia is  _ my  _ daughter.” Her eyes narrow. “She always will be.”

_ She is my daughter. Not yours.  _ The message comes through loud and clear after nearly seven years of reading Yurio. Victor almost wants to snap back that Yuri is his son to a much greater extent than he’s ever been Daniela’s daughter.

He takes a deep breath before deciding  _ Screw it.  _ They’ll be ending this conversation soon enough anyway, so he can afford to drop the act. “Let me put this very simply so that it will get through to you, Daniela. For lack of a more polite way to say it, the fact that Yuri has a vagina does not, in any way, make him your daughter. The fact that he and Anna share your DNA does not make you their mother. You lost that right a long time ago. You’re a smart woman, Daniela, but I still feel the need to ask. Do you understand?”

“I have put up with this quite enough, I think.” Daniela looks incredibly offended. “I have put up with your… unorthodox lifestyle for Yulia’s sake, but I don’t think that Anna will be allowed to be around you if this is how you really feel. You’re a much worse influence than I thought.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Victor pulls out his phone and opens the attachment in his text from Chris. He hands the phone to Daniela with a smile that’s filled with ice cold venom. She takes it suspiciously and reads through it, face growing more and more horrified by the second. 

Victor’s smile never wavers. “One of my best friends has a boyfriend who works in international finance. I asked him to pull a few strings. He found some very interesting documents about you and Mikhail both.”

_ If she’s going to play dirty, I will too. Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it. _

“What do you want?” Daniela asks after a long pause. Her voice has lost all of the false courtesy it’s had since her arrival; now it only contains a quiet, dangerous anger that’s almost reminiscent of Yurio. 

“I’m very glad that you asked, since I’d hate for us not to be on the same page. My husband is going to come back with some papers. You are going to sign them, and then you’re going to go home and make Mikhail sign them. Then you agree never to contact any of us again. If you do, all of this will disappear. I’ll pay off every debt up to this past month. If you don’t, everything you’ve done to cover this up will have been for nothing. You will lose your job, your house,  _ and  _ your daughter. It’s up to you.” Victor doesn’t like the feeling he gets from doing things in such an underhanded way, but he pushes it aside; protecting Yurio and Anna comes before his own comfort. 

There’s another long pause, but Victor isn’t worried. He knows exactly what Daniela is going to do. He has her cornered. It’s a few minutes before anything else is said, and only because Yuuri comes back with the stack of papers that will legally release Anna into their care. Victor has been carrying them around for just under two years, since all this started. He’s always known that it would come to this. 

“Thank you, Yuuri.” Victor takes the papers and wraps an ar around his husband to warm him up. Neither of them takes their eyes off of Daniela. 

Several more minute go by before she lets out a long breath and glares at Victor, hatred shining in her eyes for the first time. “I suppose this is what they really mean by an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”

“Do we have a deal?” It makes Victor sick to bargain with children, as if they’re checks instead of people. Unfortunately, it’s the only way to get Daniela to cooperate. 

She nods reluctantly and takes the paperwork from him. “But don’t think for an instant that this is over.”

“I believe that it is. You can’t refute your decision now. After all, Otabek has been recording this entire conversation, right?” For the first time, Victor glances over at the waiting bench. 

The younger man sends him a somber thumbs up with the hand that isn’t recording with the cell phone. 

Victor nods at him in thanks before turning his attention back to Daniela, who looks horrified. “You… You…”

“Just sign the damn papers,” Yuuri says in thickly accented Russian. The broken way he speaks does nothing to undermine the dangerous fury in his eyes. It’s not often that Victor sees Yuuri angry, but it’s always a terrifying sight. “Mikhail isn’t even her father. He doesn’t have custody over Anna, so just sign those and get out of here.”

Both Daniela and Victor gape at him. Even Victor hadn’t known that.  _ Though, in retrospect, it does make things easier.  _

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at Victor. “What?” he asks in English. “Did you think you were the only one doing some digging? I found Yurio’s release papers from when he was seven. Mikhail isn’t either of their father.”

“You’re absolutely terrifying, моя любовь,” Victor murmurs.  _ Especially since if Yuuri knows, there’s no way that Yurio doesn’t.  _

It doesn’t take long for Daniela to sign the papers after that. There’s really nothing she can say or do to prolong what’s always, in Victor’s mind, been inevitable. It hits him, as she’s flipping through the paperwork, that Daniela probably  _ does  _ love her kids, to some extent.  _ Just not enough, _  Victor thinks. _  Not in the right ways. _

Daniela doesn’t say goodbye to either of her children, though she does look back at the door to the hospital room lingeringly. Then she’s gone, vanishing into the elevator without a word. 


	6. Bring Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, it's not Yuri's POV, don't scream. There's a reason. It's better to see this from an outside perspective, because Yuri and Anna are both swirling black holes of emotion right now and this would have gone on forever if I tried to put that into words. Still, I don't think it's too bad. 
> 
> *cracks knuckles* Alright, let's wrap this up.

**_YP: get video_ **

 

**_OA: Sure_ **

 

Otabek is mildly confused as to what Yuri means when he first gets the text, but he thinks he understands when he sees Victor come out with Mrs. Plisetskaya on his tail. It doesn’t look like either of them has noticed his presence yet. He opens his camera without a word and starts recording. If Yuri is asking him to, there’s a reason.

Mrs. Plisetskaya makes him sick. She bargains away her children like poker chips, not even caring about their wellbeing or their future. Still, for her to give up her right to Anna, Victor must have some serious blackmail material.

That’s surprising in itself. Victor has never really struck him as the type. Though honestly, Otabek supposes that when Yuri is on the line, any of them might act a little bit different from normal.

He sends the video to Yuri in an email, since a text couldn’t handle a file that size. He’s sure that Yuri will watch it later, when Anna isn’t around. But Otabek deletes it. He doesn’t need Daniela Plisetskaya taking up space on his phone.

Otabek goes into the hospital room before Victor or Yuuri; both of them look like they need a few minutes to themselves. Yuri and Anna are giggling at some video when the door swings open silently, and he allows himself a few seconds to just watch them. Yuri is rarely this unguarded with anyone. It’s nice to see.

Then the moment is over. Anna notices him first. When she looks up at him, Yuri does too, both of them with nearly identical looks of apprehension on their faces. Where Anna looks slightly scared, though, Yuri looks slightly murderous. Otabek has no doubt that he’s preparing to wreak havoc on a woman that he probably won’t ever see again.

“What happened?” Anna is the first of them to speak, which doesn’t surprise Otabek in the slightest.

_ No one will ever hurt your family again. She’s got no power over you anymore. You’re safe. Both of you.  _ “She’s gone for good,” Otabek says instead.

Just by the look on his face, Otabek can tell that Yuri heard everything he didn’t say. It’s clear from the slight shine in his eyes that isn’t normally there, from the way that his grip on Anna tightens just a bit. Something swells a bit in Otabek’s chest, but he keeps his face blank. Now isn’t the time.

Of course, Victor picks that instant to bounce into the room with a wide, heart-shaped grin on his face as Yuuri comes in behind him, looking sheepishly apologetic.

_ “Nyura,”  _ he singsongs, “Do you want to live with us?”

Not for the first time, Otabek winces internally at Victor’s lack of tact. It probably isn’t the best idea to just barge in and--

“Can I?”

The excited tone in Anna’s voice catches Otabek off guard. It sounds as if she’s actually okay with it. Of course, he expected that she wasn’t entirely happy at home, but… What had he missed while he’d been sitting outside? Otabek considers asking, but he’s not sure how well the question would be received when Yuri looks the way he does. He’s clearly happy, to some extent, but his arms tighten a bit more around Anna and the smile on his face is just the tiniest bit forced.

“Of course you can! I’ve even got your mother’s signature here to prove it.” Victor pauses and glances at Yuri knowingly. “Unless you’d prefer to live with your grandfather? Or maybe… your brother?”

Otabek is glad that his long sleeves hide the goosebumps; Victor is terrifying. Every single move he’s made today has been calculated to lead him to this result. He has no doubt that Victor really would take Anna in with open arms, but there’s no way would she pick Victor and Yuuri over her brother.

Anna looks at Yuri with the strangest shy look on her face. “Can I?”

“I… If you’re okay with travelling a lot, because I have to for-- for work,” Yuri stammers. “We’d have to homeschool you and… I’d probably have to take you to the rink a lot, since I shouldn’t leave you home alone too much with your ankle--”

“Yuri.” Otabek needs to cut him off before he goes on a tangent. “She asked you a question.”

Yuri nods silently, looking a little dazed as he looks at Anna. “Of course you can stay with me. You know, if you want. What the hell kind of question is that?”

There’s no way Otabek can hide the tiny smile that blooms on his face, so he looks away. Yuuri catches his eye and he finds nearly the same look mirrored back at him. They’re both glad that this is over.

Luckily, the doctors don’t need to keep Anna overnight. It takes about two hours to get everything settled with the doctors, including physical therapist recommendations and arbitrary pain medicine (issuing a warning for Tylenol wasn’t necessary, in Otabek’s opinion, but the doctors apparently think it was) before they’re able to leave. When they ask Anna if there’s anything at her parents’ house that she wants, they’re met with a vehement  _ no. _

Otabek isn’t surprised; Daniela Plisetskaya isn’t one to allow material memories. None of them have ever been inside of Anna’s room, but Otabek has a pretty good idea of what it probably looks like. So they grab the bag that Yuri brought and head down to the car, pushing Anna in the obligatory wheelchair that the hospital is demanding they use until they're off the premises. Yuri seems to be thinking pretty hard about something-- about  _ everything,  _ Otabek is sure --so the ride back to the apartment is quieter than usual.

Yuuri and Victor are in their own car, which probably has something to do with the quiet.

It’s not the easiest to stay quiet, but Otabek realizes that he doesn’t have much to offer to this situation, since it’s not his life that’s being altered.

Although… “I can clear my things out of the guest room when we get back, since Anna will need a room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Yuri looks genuinely surprised, which is odd in itself; where did he think Anna was going to stay? “What do you mean? You’re not sleeping on the couch. Just sleep in my room.”

He can’t really help the quickening of his heart, but he can definitely keep a straight face when he nods. He can at least pretend that he doesn’t blush when Anna squeals about her “ship sailing,” whatever that means. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

Yuri smirks at him once they reach a red light, a little bit of his usual biting humor slipping back into his voice. “I’d say you could bunk with Anna, but she’ll probably kick the crap out of you with that cast.”

When Otabek glances at the rearview mirror, he finds a sweet smile on Anna’s face that says  _ If you fight this, I’m definitely going to kick the crap out of you with my cast. _

As if he would. They pull into the parking garage without another word, Yuri backing up expertly into the parking place before shutting off the ignition.

“Beka, can you grab the bag and Anna’s crutches?” he asks when they get out of the car. It’s not even really a question; he’s already got a squirming Anna in his arms by the time Otabek has the stuff in hand.

“I can use the crutches, you know.”

“Not in snow, you can’t. Deal with it.” Yuri raises an eyebrow. “You’re too light. Remind me to get Katsudon over here for dinner.”

“Yuuri? Why?” Otabek hasn’t been here long enough to know every habit Yuri has, or why he calls certain people for certain things.

Yuri smirks again and leads the way to the elevator. “Free food. It’s been a hell of a day, and I want pork. Besides, he needs to pick up Victor’s present. It came in the mail the other day.”

Anna is too busy looking around in wonder to add to the conversation. It’s adorable, Otabek will admit; she’s never been allowed to come to her brother’s studio apartment before, so even the elevator seems to be fascinating to her. Otabek presses the button for the button for the penthouse and her eyes widen even further.

“You live on the top floor?” she asks her brother in wonder.

Yuri scoffs, but looks secretly pleased. “Of course. Who do you think I am?”

“You live at the top now too, Anna,” Otabek feels compelled to add, just to see the look on her face grow more awed. He really is fond of her; she reminds him of his own sisters.

“Pick a nickname,” she says absently. “Only Mama and the teachers call me Anna.”

Otabek wonders why this wasn’t addressed before, but he doesn’t dwell on it. It’s not a big deal to give his best friend’s little sister a nickname. “How about Kitten? Since you’re like a smaller version of Yuri.”

That gets a laugh out of her. “Deal.”

“The Ice Kitten of Russia,” Yuri says. “Sounds good, don’t you think?”

“Terrifying.” Otabek’s voice is entirely deadpan as the doors open.

“Damn straight.” It looks like Yuri is struggling to grab his keys and keep a hold on Anna, so Otabek unclips the carabiner from Yuri’s beltloop.

“I’ve got it. You have your hands full.”

He’s pretty sure that Anna stops breathing for a moment when she sees the inside of the penthouse. His own reaction had been a little less pronounced, the first time; as well-decorated as Yuri’s apartment is, it’s always felt a bit empty, as if Yuri didn’t really live here. Something tells Otabek that that’s going to change pretty quickly.

Yuri sets Anna down on the couch before sitting down himself, gesturing for Otabek to do the same. It’s still too early for dinner, so they turn on some foreign movie that Anna swears by. The Princess Bride or something. He has to wonder why she likes it so much when she can barely speak English, but it’s fun.

Still, Anna is asleep about halfway through. Yuri pauses it and stands up slowly, looking far older than he has all day. Otabek gets up, slightly worried, but Yuri raises a trembling hand.

“Just… Give me a minute,” he says, heading toward his room.

There are a few minutes of silence as Otabek waits. If the events of last night have taught him anything, it’s that Yuri will come to him when he’s ready to, and not a minute before. Otabek can’t really blame him for being overwhelmed right now. He’s sure that Yuri was just trying not to be obvious around Anna.

Otabek can’t pretend that he’s not a little taken off guard when Yuri comes back in wearing what looks like a compression shirt, leggings, and a pair of fighting gloves. He leans against the doorway and crosses his arms in a way that looks confrontational, but is probably meant to cover his chest. It’s not the first time that Otabek has seen him without a binder, and it probably won’t be the last, but Yuri never seems to get any more comfortable with it.

“Spar with me,” Yuri says softly and  _ oh, that’s what this is about  _ is the first thing to come to Otabek’s mind. Yuri has a lot of pent up emotions, and no way to get rid of them.

“Sure.”

Otabek doesn’t bother changing, since it’s less  _ sparring  _ and more  _ holding the pads so Yuri can hit them as hard as he can without hurting anyone.  _ They all have things that they do in the off-season; Otabek personally likes cycling. Yuri decided on mixed martial arts, since it’s high impact and helps him keep his jumps going even off the ice. There’s a converted bedroom where he keeps his gear, and that’s where they are, Otabek holding targets and Yuri trying his damndest to break them in half by sheer force of emotion alone. He pretends not to notice when tears stars tracing their way down Yuri’s face.

He’s in the middle of a roundhouse kick when the door opens and Anna pokes her head in. “Whoa, this house is huge.”

The kick connects, but Yuri loses balance on the landing, managing to catch himself in a kind of bridge stretch before his back hits the ground. He pulls himself up with a fluidity and flexibility that Otabek has always wished he possessed.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry, котиться.” Yuri wipes his face hurriedly, but not before Anna sees.

She hops over to him on one foot, nearly falling over until Yuri steadies her. “I can always go with Victor and Yuuri if you don’t want me here, you know…”

Yuri smacks her in lightly on the back of the head. “Of course that’s not it, idiot. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just been a really long few days. I needed to hit something.”

Otabek wonders if he should intervene; he’s noticed that neither of these two are the best at communicating with normal people, much less each other.

“I don’t want to be a bother. Kids are expensive, Yuri,” Anna says, sounding almost polite in a way that she’s never, to Otabek’s knowledge, been around Yuri.

And yet, that may be the first time she’s called Yuri by his name. Otabek certainly hasn’t heard it before.

There’s a long moment before Yuri speaks. “I pretty much bought you a new wardrobe for Christmas, you know. Sorry for ruining the surprise,” he says, picking up a towel and patting his face dry. “You’re already on my cell phone plan. You eat literally anything that’s edible unless it has peppers, so food isn’t an issue. How expensive do you think you really are, Annichka?”

Anna doesn’t respond, staring at the floor silently.

“Homeschool costs about the same as gymnastics did, and since I know how much you hate all those other classes, I’m going to cancel those. But money isn’t what you’re actually worried about, is it?”

Well. It looks like Otabek doesn’t have to say anything after all. Yuri’s perceptiveness is apparently making an appearance tonight. Anna, on the other hand, seems to be acting her age for once. He can’t really blame her; her entire life has been uprooted in the last few hours. No matter how much she hated her old one, that has to be jarring.

Yuri puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eye. “If you really want to leave, you can. But not because of some stupid reason like guilt. There’s nothing to feel bad for, котиться. I promise.”

Anna nods a little, and for now, that’s the end of it. “Okay.”

Otabek isn’t naive enough to believe that they won’t be having this conversation again-- after everything Anna and Yuri have been through, they’re going to have a few issues to work out over time.

Now, though, they call Yuuri, Victor, and Nikolai over for dinner, and Victor records Anna’s first time eating pork cutlet bowls. Otabek marvels at the amount she can eat, and Yuri laughs at the look on his face and tries to goad him into an eating competition.

“I refuse.” There’s no way he could even get close to Anna, much less Yuri.

Anna giggles. “You’ll be in Russia until April, right? I’m definitely going to beat you and Yuri before then!”

“I’m sure.” Otabek gives a soft smile as Yuri makes a noise of protest.

Yeah, those two have issues. But they’ll be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squeals* Yuratchka is growing up, I'm so proud!
> 
> And those of you wondering about Nikolai.... Idk man. I don't know much about him, so he's hard for me to write. He's still there, he's fine with the fact that Victor and Yuuri (finally) went through with the plan they talked about last year. That's pretty much all I have for you on that, so feel free to theorize. 
> 
> Yes, there's going to be another work. Don't worry. And that one's going to have ~~_Otayuri_~~ ahem I mean character development. Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> So... Thoughts?


End file.
